A HomeMade Heaven
by Patchverse-SheCat
Summary: Rogue and Joseph decide to have a family and Remy is stuck in the middle. Chap. 4 is now up. Finished.
1. Dreams Broken and Repaired

Disclaimer: None of these are my characters, they belong to Marvel.  
  
Author's Note: I swear I will continue this, probably should be about three chapters. It's a bit of a different style than I usually do. Was inspired by my cousin, the songs "Perfect" by Simple Plan, "Honesty" by Rodney Atkins and "When I'm Back On My Feet Again" by Michael Bolton, and a great deal of Cheetos Twisteds. No wonder it's a different style. Blame the Cheetos. ;)  
  
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"Some people will tell you, holding on is hard. But more often than not, the hardest is the letting go." ~Anonymous  
  
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It had not been unexpected when she'd broken off the relationship. Nevertheless, expected did not mean painless. Possibly it made it worse, if anything. It had been easy to read, he'd seen the signs of her drifting to Joseph, but like a fool he'd told himself it was nothing. Deep down, though, he knew his imperfect love for her would not stand the test of time, and she would leave. It was that simple.  
  
Remy would've left had she not broken it so gently to him, so kindly, without any tricks or lies. Perfectly honest. No complex hang-ups, no questions asked, just telling it like it was. It was the kind of favor he'd never be able to return. Not because he couldn't be honest, but because he couldn't be trusted. As much as he always wished it, Rogue never would believe him wholeheartedly.  
  
Not that she trusted him now, sitting at a booth in the local diner. It was plain as day that he was lying about being 'alright'. True, he had dated around with other women, but none of them lasted more than a week. And now she was going to have to break more news to him, wonderful for her and horrifying for him.  
  
"Been a while since we been here t'gether, neh?" He sprawled across the cushion on the booth, taking up his whole side. Rogue smiled, inwardly cursing as she allowed the conversation to steer itself away. "Didn't t'ink Joe would let you go meet another guy."  
  
Joseph didn't mind her here, she knew. He recognized the old passion Remy still held for Rogue, but also recognized that Rogue would stay true to her new lover. Rogue and Joe, they had a future, carefully planned together. "Joe don't mind."  
  
Remy smiled, almost too genuinely, then straightened his posture as a waitress came by.  
  
Rogue continued, deciding to barrel straight into the topic. Nothing subtle about her. "Remy, Ah brought you here t' tell ya somethin'."  
  
"'Was obvious." It had been quite clear that she wanted to speak about important things as soon as she requested the most secluded seats in the place. "Spill."  
  
"Remy, Ah hope you won't be too mad. Joe and Ah...we've decided to have a baby." She lowered her eyes to avoid seeing his initial reaction, which happened to be coughing water over the table.  
  
"Quoi?!" He sputtered some more, choking as he'd attempted to gasp, swallow and say something simultaneously. The end result was one big hiccup. Rogue waited until he ceased, then repeated herself.  
  
"We're going t' have a baby."  
  
"Aint ya gonna get married or somethin' first?" He asked, pushing his sunshades up just enough to wipe watering eyes.  
  
"No, we decided this way was better." Emanating an aura of serenity she did not feel, she started mopping up some of the water.  
  
"Oh." Was that the best he could say? Mentally, he searched for anything, anything he could say that would make it seem that he wasn't fuming inside. "Well...dat's great." The comment was laced with the underlying tone of 'I guess'.  
  
Rogue nodded, seeing through him as if he was transparent. He had no secrets from her.  
  
To himself, he cursed for being so unprepared, so cold about it. Rogue deserved what he'd been unable to give her. At the same time, though, he felt jealousy welling up inside him like bile.  
  
For so long he'd played her heart like a game of poker, holding her as close as possible without deceiving to others the actual nature of his hand. It was that same behavior, the entire secrecy and seclusion of the words he had said, that had given Joseph the upper hand. Whereas Remy would stumble over simple reassurances of his love, Joseph was unafraid to bare his entire soul to the lady.  
  
Yet at the same time Remy had tried to fool himself that he was more deserving. That he had always been more deserving. Maybe, if he tricked himself into thinking it was all just a big mistake, it wouldn't hurt so badly.  
  
And this? This was sealing the gates of hope for him. Once they settled down, made a commitment, then the race was all over. Rogue would belong to Joe, simple as that. Simple as that.  
  
Rogue's voice snapped him from stewing in his personal miseries. "Ah'll have the chocolate sundae supreme and my friend'll have the-"  
  
"Piece o' apple pie, sil vous plaít." The last thing he wanted was to get drunk at a time like this. He'd already said enough.  
  
The caterer offered him a polite grin that he didn't return. Realizing it was a lost cause, she jotted down their order and left.  
  
"Ah know what you're thinkin'." Rogue became serious, leaning across the table to him, eyes narrowed almost accusingly. "Ah borrowed your psyche, 'member? And Ah don't even need that to see right through ya."  
  
Remy cursed himself again for being so blunt. Averting his eyes from her, he thanked God that she wasn't even trying to see his face.  
  
Placing a hand on his, she continued, softly. "Remy, it wasn't you because you aint re-", She paused, searching the space just over his head for the right word. "Reliable. Joseph's gonna stick around, but after Ah borrowed your soul Ah realized you might not. Look at everyone else who's been in your life. You didn't stay with any of 'em."  
  
So there she was, using his past against him yet again.  
  
Her words were true, though. His life had been a lot of running away, never sticking around long enough to take the blow. Just like hers. But he knew that once she had a keystone here, she'd stay. Which was more than he could say.  
  
He didn't notice when the waitress brought them their desserts.  
  
"Please understand." Her eyes stung, seeing him like this. He nodded, slowly, and watched as the minute hand on the clock traced itself halfway around. She joined him in his silence, not wishing to press the issue further. Their solitude together was broken only by the occasional clink of her spoon against the glass bowl. The waitress came back with their tab.  
  
"Your tab?" She asked, delivering the food with a smile.  
  
"Ah'll pay." Said Rogue as she reached inside of her purse. Remy's hand stopped her.  
  
"I'll pay." He managed a slight smile for the caterer. Rogue smiled too, gently, as if showing any more emotion would crack her porcelain face.  
  
After the waitress left, "Thanks."  
  
"De rien."  
  
"Ah gotta go." She rose even as she said it.  
  
"You sure?" Much as he was unhappy right now, it would be worse without her.  
  
"Yeah, Ah gotta get home. Nice seein' ya." After checking to make sure she had her purse, she walked away. Remy looked after her, too exhausted mentally to even take the opportunity to look at her rear. It was his blessing that no one could see the hurt in his eyes through the opaque sunshades.  
  
His sigh sank into a piece of uneaten apple pie. 


	2. Bad Medicine

Disclaimer: No characters here are mine.  
  
Author's Note: This is a bridge chapter really, which means it isn't that good. So please, be patient. I'm still getting into the swing of this story. And I may feel the need to smash your heads in with really obvious metaphors. Sorry.  
  
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"I'd rather watch the house we built burn to the ground, or stand out in the pouring rain and let the good Lord strike me down, than to sit here and just watch you walk away. Anything would be better than your goodbye on a bad day." ~Shannon Lawson, Goodbye on a Bad Day  
  
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Darts were a quick stress relief. Especially when they were targeted at a certain white-haired man with amnesia.  
  
Of course, Joseph was not actually getting nailed with darts. It was all in Remy's head as he pegged the bull's-eye. Guilty as it was, he never could get over his jealousy. He knew, tried on multiple occasions, that he should let it go, let them live their life. His heart, however, seemed to have different plans. No matter what, he could never befriend Joseph, nor even tolerate his presence for extended periods of time.  
  
Remy came to the conclusion that he was just too lazy to get up off the bed and retrieve the darts. He stretched out, intertwining his fingers and pushing against them until his knuckles popped. Outside, a flurry of snow was lacing the window with frost.  
  
Less than a year ago, this room had been the home of two inhabitants. Remy fancied he could still smell her on the air here, even as he knew it wasn't possible. Rogue hadn't left much. They'd owned everything jointly, and he agreed he didn't need the wardrobe too terribly when she'd gone. She'd proceeded to ask if he'd wanted the bookshelf, the desk, the bed- table and four of the five lamps. He hadn't had the heart to fight her for any of it.  
  
Now, the room was bare except for the bed, a small table meant for a porch and the dartboard. To be quite honest, he liked the lack of clutter. His clothes were either on the floor two feet away from the laundry chute or strewn over the inside of the closet, but they were the only obstruction.  
  
About an hour would bring about the Christmas feast. He frankly wouldn't have minded not attending, but Ororo had insisted that he'd come. And for all she'd done for him, he couldn't turn her down. It was her request. And as she'd so quaintly put it, a Christmas gift from him.  
  
Not that she'd object to the nice skirt he'd gotten her beforehand, but he'd failed to mention that.  
  
There was a reason for his reluctance. It was hard enough forgetting Rogue when they both lived in the mansion. Even harder when he would see her attending the usual Christmas feast with someone else. Last year, it had been him holding her.  
  
The small table had been adorned by down-turned photographs. Remy had decided that he didn't need the constant reminders of 'what was', but could not bring himself to put them away. Every once in a while, he'd take a peek at one. It was a bad medicine; they resulted in a melancholy mood that followed the temporary smiles.  
  
"Are you coming?" Ororo's regal voice came from behind the door. Remy pondered letting her stay out there for a second, then rose from the bed and opened the door for her.  
  
As usual, Ororo had overdone herself. She was decked out all in blue, with a dazzling sequined dress and a small tiara that was reminiscent of sapphires. Her heels were so high Remy wondered how anyone could walk in them. For once, she and Remy were looking each other at perfect eye level.  
  
In contrast, Remy had thrown on a fairly nice shirt and pants, hastily put on a tie and combed his hair with his fingers. By any regards, he looked a mess.  
  
Upon her look of general disappointment, Remy forced a smile and a cheerful welcome.  
  
"Bonjour, Stormy. You look nice."  
  
Ororo sighed with exasperation. Men were helpless! "Come on, there's no way I'm letting you go to the feast like that." She hurried him back into the room, straightening his tie at the same time. From her handbag came the brush, and she shoved him in front of the mirror.  
  
"Not de hair!" Too late. The brush attacked, tearing into the knots and tangles loneliness had left. Remy winced, firmly under the impression that his scalp was being torn off his head.  
  
"You're a mess! You can't even go outside like that, much less a formal occasion!" She held onto him like a minx, straightening, tightening and smoothing as she did so. He finally gave up, too tired both internally and externally to fight her anymore.  
  
"There. That didn't hurt so bad, did it?" She took a step back to admire her work. Aside from the sour look on his face, he did look better. Hands on hips, she turned her attentions to the room. "Goddess, Remy. What happened here?"  
  
He didn't answer. He didn't have to; she knew exactly what.  
  
"Well, we'll have a go at it Saturday." Taking his arm in her hand, she forcibly dragged him out the door. Remy sighed and gave in. No fighting her here. Ororo's ideal of combating depression was to put it out of the mind. Remy would have preferred thinking over it until there was nothing left to ponder, until all questions were answered. Then again, he saw exactly how far that had gotten him.  
  
Time to face the music. And Rogue.  
  
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The feast was more of a social gathering than anything food oriented. People moved around talking, peacefully oblivious to anything but the Christmas spirit. Remy even found himself having fun, though not as much as in the previous years. Currently he was chatting with Jean and Hank, Ororo having left to sweet-talk Kurt.  
  
"But then I figured it was iambic pentameter and not really pyrrhic like everyone thinks, so I wondered if that went for all the similar sonnet lines..." Jean looked like she was about to fall asleep. Remy nodded, totally clueless to what Hank was saying. He let his red eyes roam around the room, all the while keeping up the pretense that he was listening.  
  
And there she was. There she was, hanging on Joseph's arm and looking beautiful as always. There she was.  
  
"Uh..." Remy felt his mouth go dry. He had to get out of there, had to hide, had to avoid any contact whatsoever with Rogue. "Uh, sorry Hank, I gotta go." Before he could receive an answer, he turned and started to walk briskly away.  
  
Unfortunately, Rogue had already seen him and was moving his way, Joseph in tow.  
  
"Hey Remy." He spun and saw her, then Joseph. Try as he might, he couldn't entirely keep the frown from his mouth. Rogue didn't notice. "Where ya been?"  
  
Remy hated the perky air she put off. Something good must have happened, but it certainly hadn't affected him. He replied almost coldly, "Whaddya mean?"  
  
"Well, Ah haven't seen ya." There was a hurt note in her voice. What did she expect? To hurt him that bad and have everything be okay? After that long, to just be friends?  
  
"I been around." He fought to keep the familiar heat from rising in his cheeks. "Now, if you'll excuse me." With that, he turned and started away. Rogue whispered something into Joseph's ear. Joseph looked unhappy, but conceded.  
  
Remy reached the men's restroom and stopped in the middle of the floor. All around him were mirrors, reflecting him back mockingly. Didn't matter. Soon as he got the chance, he'd make a break back for his room. Ororo would be mad, even hurt, but he didn't care. Nobody seemed to care about him anyway. The girl he'd trusted to love him with all her heart had left him on a whim.  
  
"Why are you being such a jerk?" Remy started and glared at Joseph, even though he was asking the same question to himself.  
  
He gave up. There was no fighting this. Eventually, Rogue would either drive him insane or force him out of the mansion. "She sent you in here, didn't she?" It wasn't really a question as much as a statement.  
  
"Not with those exact words."  
  
"Oh." Remy lit a cigarette and watched it burn, never even bringing it to his mouth.  
  
"She's not sorry, you know."  
  
Great. Twist the knife. The Cajun's eyes followed the thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling.  
  
"But she says she never wanted you to be so depressed." Joseph felt like he was trying to talk to a wall. He wasn't getting anything that qualified as a response.  
  
"Oh really?" Sarcasm.  
  
"Really."  
  
Something snapped in Remy then. He turned to Joseph, eyes blazing. "Den how did she happen t'forget dat she borrowed my psyche? How did she overlook de fact dat I take a long time healin'? How did dat happen? How did she-she..." He looked as if he'd continue, then stopped. If he went over the line, Rogue would definitely hear about it from her white-haired puppy dog.  
  
Joseph wasn't getting anywhere. Remy seemed hellbent on jealousy. Joseph started to walk away.  
  
"Joseph?" Surprised, Joseph turned. Like a quick change artist, Remy had turned from angry to downright pathetic in a split second. The lines were showing beneath his eyes, the unshaved stubble a stark contrast to his skin in the fluorescent bathroom lights.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Remy had to know. He couldn't put off asking anymore. "Is she?" He was referring to pregnancy. Joseph knew this.  
  
"Yes." So it was certain. Rogue was Joseph's, and now, always would be. Joseph turned to leave again.  
  
"Joseph, wait?" Remy pleaded, desperate for one last answer he couldn't get from anyone else.  
  
Exasperated, "Yes?"  
  
"Does she - does she ever talk about me?" Joseph started to feel pity for the man. It seemed the roles had been reversed. Last year, it had been him pining for the belle.  
  
Joseph looked Remy in the eye and replied with total honesty, the way he himself would have wanted it. "Not really."  
  
Joseph left. The cigarette went out. 


	3. Pictures

Disclaimer: No characters here are mine.  
  
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Author's Note: Sorry, I guess it will be four chapters. No resolution here, but I'm answering some questions with this section.  
  
Note: This is NOT a bash fest for Rogue, Joseph or Remy. Fanfiction can be bash, but that isn't a central element. Just because I write angst doesn't mean it's bash.  
  
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"Who's gonna hold me tonight when I'm feeling lonely? Who's gonna show me the light? 'Cuz I need to know. With all the things we've got, how can love just stop? Somebody tell me, somebody help me understand." ~Trace Adkins, Help Me Understand .  
  
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For Rogue, regret was second-nature. She wished dearly that she hadn't sent Joseph after Remy. She wished that Remy could accept that her life didn't revolve around him. She wished that she'd been more understanding.  
  
She wished for a lot of things.  
  
After watching Joseph return from the men's room with a guilty look on his face, she'd confronted him. Joseph, sheepishly, had explained the entire conversation at a rapid rate, then had run off as Rogue had threatened to tear his eyes out. How could he? She hadn't sent him in to say that.  
  
Even so, she didn't wish to change who she'd finally chosen.  
  
And what Remy had said, she had expected nothing less from him. He'd taken the imprinting of his psyche as a token of trust, not as a simple effect of her power. And just because she knew that he prone to depression and stress, did that mean she had to base her life around him? What was so hard about just being friends?  
  
The hard thing was he hadn't stopped loving her. Not even close. And she realized, grudgingly, that she'd never stopped loving him back. That was why she'd sent Joseph in, to tell Remy to move on. That was why she feigned indifference to their past, to beg him to be happy. That was why she was at times even cruel to him, to prove to him that she wasn't his anymore. If he finally stopped pining for her, wouldn't he be happier? Wouldn't they both be happier? Why couldn't he understand that sometimes everyone had to make sacrifices, for themselves and for each other?  
  
"Rogue?" Joseph peered around the corner at his pregnant fiancé, and at the several empty cans of sliced pineapple around her. "Rogue...I'm sorry."  
  
She turned her head slowly, without blinking, and stared at him. He'd done it out of jealousy, true, but that didn't make it justified. She'd wanted to break it to the Cajun gently, and Joseph had the subtlety of a large hammer.  
  
"You aren't going to gouge my eyes out, are you?" He said, trying desperately to lighten the mood. Despite the hopelessness of her situation, Rogue smiled.  
  
He moved over to the bed, sat down next to her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, staring at their reflection in the mirrored door of the closet.  
  
"Joseph, am Ah cruel?" Joseph ran his fingers through her hair, trying vainly to comfort her. Sometimes she could be, but she wasn't on a consistent basis. Most of the time, she was lovely and kind and wonderful and he loved her, it was just those little times when her temper snapped, or when she was making a hard decision.  
  
"No. No, Rogue, you aren't cruel."  
  
"Am Ah selfish?" Again, sometimes she was and sometimes she wasn't. He figured that she was no more selfish than anyone else, just a normal person.  
  
"No, you aren't selfish."  
  
"Am Ah-"  
  
He interrupted her. "Do you think I really would be engaged to someone who was cruel and selfish and anything other than perfect?" True, she wasn't perfect, but in his eyes she was.  
  
The long pause that followed was broken only by the laughing of children outside. Joseph looked down at her, but her expression told him nothing.  
  
She finally broke the tension. "Joseph?"  
  
Joseph cringed at the thought of another question. "Yes?"  
  
"Thanks." Looking up at him and smiling, she felt the slightest bit of morale. They could get through this, though it would be a rocky road for her, Joseph and Remy. It would be hard for all of them, but whatever came, they'd manage.  
  
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Why did he have to look at that picture? Of all pictures, he'd had to choose that one. The one of them on the motorcycle, smiling, open and daring to take on the world. Rogue with her green scarf, back before she'd learned how to control her power, and her ever-present gloves. Grinning mouth parted ever so slightly, brow furrowed, she was telling Jean "Don't you dare touch that camera". But she'd liked it. She'd thrived on the attention.  
  
And Remy in his KBUL T-shirt and jeans, leaning cockily against her shoulder. Back when. Way back when.  
  
Why did he have to look at that picture?  
  
Remy knew that that had been here favorite photograph. Maybe that's why he'd looked at it. Either way, despite the smiles brought by temporary reminiscence, it was a very bad choice. That was in the past. He'd had his life good in the past, but it didn't do to dwell on things.  
  
Which he thought, was precisely what he was brooding over. The past.  
  
He hated that picture. It was some demon that had haunted his sleep with temptation. It would be so easy to go back to her, to beg for her love, to explain to her how lost he was. It would be so easy to track Joseph down and beat the snot out of him. Neither situation, however, would end happily.  
  
That was all he wanted for Rogue, a happy ending. The kind of ending he couldn't give her himself.  
  
What he wanted for himself, though, was a different thing entirely.  
  
He wanted her to be happy; he wanted her to be his. And if neither could coincide, he'd feel cheated whichever way it ended.  
  
He couldn't even admit to himself how much she still hurt him. She was an old wound that had never healed, and each time she laughed the memory of the pain arose again. Every smile he hadn't been the source of was a new dagger; the unintentional bounce in her step was a fresh injury. Acceptance was the way to healing, but God knows it hurt like all hell.  
  
Without thinking about it, he'd picked up the photograph. With an equal amount of thought, he pulled back his fist and punched it. He punched it until the glass shards fell to the floor, until the frame had broken, until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. Only then did he look at the torn remains of the photo and realize what he'd just destroyed.  
  
With that picture, he'd destroyed a connection to her.  
  
And it felt wonderful.  
  
He didn't want to put it in the past and forget. Putting his head in his hands, he shuddered. The beads of blood dripped from his hand to the white sheets on the bed. They left stains.  
  
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"What did you do to yourself?" Hank bustled about the medical lab, finding bandages and stitches. Remy sat on a chair in the corner, inspecting the cuts on his hand. They'd inflamed over the two days he'd kept them hidden.  
  
"It was an accident." Discreetly, Hank rolled his eyes. Of course it was an accident, heaven forbid Remy tell the truth to his doctor. Heaven forbid he told the truth to his friend.  
  
"Was keeping it hidden and waiting until it got infected an accident too?" The doctor asked sarcastically. Remy's face betrayed no emotion. Only the sudden tensing of his shoulders told Hank he'd been unnerved.  
  
"It was an accident." The thief repeated again, meekly.  
  
Hank fought back the urge to say something else. Instead, he pulled out a needle, threaded it with synthetic catgut and started stitching. Was Remy so depressed he'd sunk to self-mutilation?  
  
"How's Trish?" Remy broke the uncomfortable silence, mainly because it allowed time to think of the needle plunging in and out of his skin. No matter how many fights and wounds he suffered, he hated stitches the most.  
  
Hank found a cleansing solution and finished with the first row of stitches. "She's fine. She's hoping for a raise soon, you know. Hang on a second, this'll sting a bit."  
  
Remy bit his lip as his lacerations were cleaned, but didn't make any other indication of pain. Hank decided to abandon the cheery atmosphere.  
  
"Everyone's wondering why you haven't left yet. It was never in your nature to stick around before." It was the question everyone had wondered about.  
  
Remy didn't seem affected by the interrogation. "Where to?"  
  
So that was it. Hank had to admit, he didn't know a lot of places Remy could head to anyway. Not many places would take in a mutant thief, and since he'd been banished from New Orleans, well, there weren't many options.  
  
"Is this the notoriously impulsive Remy LeBeau thinking ahead for once?" Hank asked playfully.  
  
Remy gave a smile back. "Peut etre."  
  
Several minutes and many stitches and antibiotics later, Hank patted Remy heartily on the back. "You're free to go now."  
  
Still smiling, Remy jumped with a bit of the old hotshot flourish. "Merci. Happy holidays and joyeux noel."  
  
"Oh, and Remy?" Hank wanted one last word. At the door, Remy turned. "Take care of yourself."  
  
Knowing fully well what Hank really meant, Remy nodded, but his smile became a work of artifice. With a quick wave of his hand, he walked away.  
  
Hank stayed in his lab, wondering why he bothered to interfere with lovers' quarrels. Maybe it was because they seemed so inept at sorting it out for themselves. Sometimes they just needed a bit of a push in the right direction. 


	4. To Watch Paradise Fall

Author's Note: Despite the fact that this started off "just another one of my fanfictions", by the second chapter I'd grown quite fond of it, even going so far as to revise certain parts before posting (oh, miracle of miracles!). I'm actually quite sad to see it end, especially the way it does. I did take a few creative liberties, though. Some sappy mush, some more angst, and resolution.  
  
Thanks to y'all who reviewed and replied. For that, I give you the final chapter. Sorry it was so late in coming. .  
  
. "If you had one last chance to call one last person and tell them one last thing, what would you say? Who would you call? Why are you waiting?" ~Anonymous  
  
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Insomnia. That was the one thing that constantly reminded Remy of her, sitting up in the dead hours of night, listening to the beating of his own heart. He was half-surprised when he first focused enough to hear the soft lub-dub, then grew accustomed to it. He'd thought Rogue had broken it.  
  
But life went on, and so did his heart. She was over, she was gone, and to be honest, he didn't really care anymore. At least, that was what he thought.  
  
And partially thanks to Hank's thinly-veiled suggestions, he realized there was nothing there for him to hang on to. Yes, he'd used the excuse of having nowhere to go, but that was a flat lie. It had been false hope that led him to stay. Somewhere, in the dark recesses of his soul, he was waiting for her to come back to him.  
  
The grieving process was over. She was happy, he was free, it was just over. Tomorrow, he'd leave off to God knows where.  
  
It must have been one a.m. It was so dark he couldn't see anything but the stars through the window, and only saw the chair once he had rammed his shin on it. A few choice words came to mind, but he remembered that everyone else was asleep. Rubbing his shin, he hobbled to the light switch and flipped it on. The sudden light stabbed into his eyes.  
  
He half-expected Joseph to come down and say something either incredibly insightful or incredibly senseless. He poured himself a glass of milk, remembering bits of Hank's explanation of pH levels and bases and such. Most of it had gone straight over Remy's head, but he took a bit of advice from it: no coffee before sleeping, no citrus in the middle of the night, and don't get sulfuric acid in your eyes.  
  
Outside, the stars traced themselves across the sky. Remy felt privileged. He was the only one up to see this now, and ordinary as it seemed, it was beautiful.  
  
His last night here. Might as well enjoy it. He'd say goodbye to everyone, sure, Stormy and Kurt and Hank and all. Even Joseph deserved a proper adieu.  
  
There just wasn't enough milk in the carton. The last few drops drizzled into the bottom of his cup. He could've done with a beer, but Hank had explained some scientific mumbo-jumbo about that and sleep depravation. So no beer.  
  
"To a new life." He said quietly, looking about if anyone had heard it. Raising the half-empty - or was it half-full? - glass, he pretended to clink it with any random imaginary person across the table. He downed it in one gulp.  
  
Goodbye, Rogue.  
  
He didn't need them anymore. He'd miss them, but lately he'd been so mentally separated it wouldn't be a huge change.  
  
As he flicked off the light switch, Remy felt his heart still beating.  
  
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For Rogue, it started out a good day. She'd slept in until noon and for once didn't bark at Joseph for not giving her breakfast in bed. She didn't mind especially today. The sun was shining through the frosted window, her favorite song was on the radio, and the baritone voice of her fiancé rang out from the shower.  
  
Finally, she was going to be a normal person, with children and a house and loving husband. A white picket-fence dream, she knew, but she could almost taste apple pie on the stove. Just like the movies, Joe would come back and kiss her cheek; the kids would get ready for the supper and dessert she'd so lovingly made.  
  
Or maybe she'd just make Joseph cook. A decidedly evil smirk came to her face.  
  
Joseph had chosen that time to enter the room, beige towel wrapped around his waist, excessively long white hair falling down his back. By any standards, he looked a drown rat, until he beamed at her with those perfectly straight teeth. From the bed, she grinned back.  
  
"You haven't moved all morning, have you?" He asked teasingly. She nodded, resting a hand on her stomach. It hadn't swelled yet, but Hank had told them that it wouldn't be obvious for a few months.  
  
Throwing on a polo shirt and blazer, Joseph continued talking. "I'm going out for that job interview. I'm thinking I have a good shot at this one now."  
  
Good, she thought. No point in having that white picket fence dream paired with financial panic.  
  
He continued. "After that, I may go out to the store, if you don't mind."  
  
"So you're pretty much sayin' you'll be gone all day?" She asked.  
  
"Yeah, pretty much."  
  
"Fine. But if you're goin' for that job interview, you better get that tie straightened." He went to her, rolling his eyes a little as she nitpicked at his attire. While tucking in his shirt, she looked straight at him. "What d'ya wanna call the baby?"  
  
"Boy or girl?"  
  
Giving him a kiss on the cheek, she settled back into the bed. "Girl, Ah think. Boys are always so rowdy," She said affectionately. "Ah was thinkin' Scarlet. Or maybe Melanie."  
  
"Been watching Gone with the Wind, have we?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
He turned to leave. "Should I get you anything?"  
  
A sour look came over her face. "For God's sake, Joe, Ah aint sick!"  
  
Joseph took this as his excuse to leave. Rogue remained there, toying with the notion of accepting Jean's invitation to a girl's day out. Deciding to go, she got out of bed and headed for the shower. She thought only of the future as she entered the bathroom. Her house and her kids in the yard and a vegetable garden in back. Joseph pulling into the driveway, the cat winding around their feet. Her future.  
  
Somehow, she'd been redeemed. God was giving her a chance, for once. She was going to have a child.  
  
For Rogue, it started out a good day.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Smiling like a child keeping back a secret, Remy realized he'd somehow missed Joseph on his goodbye round. Not too big a loss. Ororo had given him an embrace that seemed to crush his ribs despite her small stature, Bobby had given him some unwanted tips on catching girls, and Hank had given him that slow, understanding smile. Remy rubbed his side, thinking that if 'Ro hadn't broken his bones then Piotr had. That Russian had one heck of a hug.  
  
One last person to go, and Remy once again felt the need to stay. But his mind was made up, and he wasn't going to change it.  
  
He never expected to hear her crying.  
  
Peering his head around the closed door, he saw her weeping, sitting on the edge of the bed, sobs racking her body. Her face was buried in her hands; she didn't see him. He opened the door a little further, then took a tentative step forward. "Rogue?"  
  
She either didn't notice him or didn't care.  
  
He took another step forward, then another. Each movement felt charged with energy, like a single mistake would destroy them both. Each time his foot connected with the ground, it made a hollow sound that seemed to break the rhythm. She still didn't seem to notice.  
  
Another step, and he was close enough to sit down on the bed. "Rogue?"  
  
This time, she turned to face him, raising her head enough for him to see that horrible redness in her eyes.  
  
"Rogue, what's wrong?" He sat down beside her, feeling like an intruder. She collapsed back into her hands.  
  
"Remy, Ah...Ah lost the..." She couldn't speak any further. Tears had carved their way down to her chin, dripped down into her bosom. To her, they weren't enough to wash away the crimson stains she had seen. Red roses against the snow. The end of her hopes.  
  
"S'okay." He said softly. He realized he was shaking, ever so slightly, even just in her presence. Reaching out to her, he understood that it meant so much to her, to be like everyone else, with kids and a family and the freedom she'd never had.  
  
Foolish of her to think she could have kept her power under control for nine months. Of course she couldn't. God had given her a taste enough so she could dream, then snatched that dream away. Was it possible for Him to be so cruel?  
  
To his surprise, he found himself embracing her, holding her close. He didn't remember initiating the contact, or if she had just come into his arms, but suddenly he was rocking her back and forth. Her head hung over his shoulder, and the nice shirt he'd been wearing was getting drops of wetness sprinkled upon it. He didn't care anymore. At least he was there for her.  
  
"Ah'm sorry." She said quietly. For what, he didn't know.  
  
"I know, I know. S'okay." Of all the things he'd wanted to say to her, of all the things he wanted to tell her, all he could say was that. It was all that needed to be said.  
  
He rocked her softly, so happy to be with her like this, so sad to see her like this. She was breaking his heart all over again. He didn't understand why, but tears started to sting his eyes too, though they didn't fall.  
  
She would never have the normal life she wanted. She'd never have a child that was truly hers. She'd never have so many of the things she direly wished for.  
  
There was something he wished for that he'd never have either.  
  
Her cheek was so warm against his neck. He buried his face in her hair. He was so close to her; she was such a stranger to him.  
  
At some point, she must have fallen asleep in his arms. Exhausted mentally, she couldn't stand the thought of being awake and thinking about her loss anymore. It had been hours, because the sun was reaching for the horizon outside.  
  
Remy closed his eyes and let himself be caught up in it all. He wanted to memorize every touch of her skin against his, every curl of hair brushing his face, every breath that ran along his shoulder. Before he left, he wanted to be there for as long as she needed.  
  
When Joseph found them, his expression wasn't so much anger as sorrow. The wet mark on Remy's shirt and the red of Rogue's sleeping face told him it what it was.  
  
With a nod, Remy lay her gently down on the bed. He hadn't known it would be so hard to finally let her hand slip from his onto the sheets. He hadn't known it would be so hard to finally break the contact.  
  
Joseph was here for her now. Remy could just walk away.  
  
And he did.  
  
Outside, before he drove away, he held his hand to his chest, searching for a heartbeat. Maybe he'd left it on the bed beside Rogue, because he couldn't find it. . . ~The End~ 


End file.
